


Fear Itself

by enigmaticblue



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard has one phobia. It’s very understandable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear Itself

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt “phobias”. The title is inspired by the phrase on one of my hoodies: “All we have to fear is fear itself…and spiders.”

Before the Pegasus galaxy, John doesn’t have phobias. There are things he fears—like failure, and the inability to save those under his command—and things he hates doing—like following orders when he thinks he knows better. But John doesn’t have _phobias_.

 

Granted, a couple of tours in Afghanistan leaves John with a distaste for scorpions and other creepy-crawlies, but he learns to shake out his boots and not walk around barefoot, and to stomp on the creatures with extreme prejudice when they invade his territory.

 

But in general, while John doesn’t like bugs, he’s not actually _afraid_ of them—and then he gets sent to Atlantis and the Pegasus Galaxy.

 

The Wraith are bad, no question, but the Iratus bugs are something else altogether. John doesn’t much care for them after one latches onto his neck and nearly kills him, but after nearly turning into one?

 

Well, John has what he calls a “healthy respect” for the creatures. Rodney calls it a phobia, but what does he know?

 

“Need some help, Colonel?” Rodney asks smugly from his spot on the bed.

 

“Shut up,” John orders tightly, feeling his stomach do a slow flip, pressing his back into the wall a little harder.

 

They’re on an off-world mission, staying at an inn. Teyla and Ronon are sharing one room, and John is sharing one with Rodney—and some very, very large spiders.

 

“Because all you have to do is ask, and I will be happy to assist,” Rodney says, crossing his arms over his chest, his chin tilted up in a blatant challenge.

 

“I said, _shut up_ ,” John replies, pressing his back against the wall, staring at the trio of spiders on the scarred wooden floor, and each of them is at least as big has his hand. “I’m going to kill them.”

 

Rodney smirks. “Or we could open the window and release them back into the wild.”

 

John gives him a dirty look. “They invaded my space. They die.”

 

“You could shoot them,” Rodney suggests.

 

“That would bring unwanted attention,” John replies. “You could do something other than sit there, you know.”

 

Rodney leans back, settling on the double bed. “No, I think I’d like to see the big, bad colonel deal with this threat. Unless, of course, you want to admit that you do have a phobia.”

 

“Bite me,” John snarled.

 

Rodney grins wickedly. “That could be arranged.”

 

John knows that he just has to stomp them—he has his boots on, and won’t be taking them off tonight—but he can’t quite get over the fear that they’ll jump up and _eat his face_.

 

That fear is not unfounded, no matter what Rodney says, not after the Iratus. How can he be sure they’re ordinary spiders and not some freaky Pegasus breed? How does he know they won’t bite him and turn him into some sort of bizarre human-spider hybrid?

 

 _He doesn’t_ , is the thing.

 

“Well, you’re not going to be getting any in the foreseeable future if you keep on like that,” John snaps, his breath catching in his throat.

 

If he _could_ shoot them, he would, but that’s just not possible under the circumstances.

 

Rodney suddenly blinks, his arms dropping. “John?”

 

“I’m fine!” John insists, trying to convince himself to just _move_ , and unable to do anything other than press his shoulders back against the wall and focus on breathing.

 

Rodney rises with alacrity and stomps on all three, and John hears them crunch audibly. Once he’s sure they’re dead, the tension leaves him, and he takes a step away from the wall.

 

“Sit,” Rodney orders, grabbing John’s arm and steering him towards the bed. “Are you okay?”

 

John hunches over. “I can’t let this beat me.”

 

“Well, to be fair, you can usually just shoot them,” Rodney points out helpfully. “You could have said they were Iratus bugs. No one would blame you.”

 

John doesn’t reply, just buries his face in his hands. “I’m fucked.”

 

“Not right now,” Rodney replies suggestively. “But it could be arranged.”

 

“Not when we’re on a mission,” John says automatically, but he smiles. “Sorry.”

 

Rodney bumps his shoulder. “You haven’t seen me trapped in a room with a bee, or a bee-like insect.”

 

“Let me guess,” John says. “You’re allergic.”

 

“Very,” Rodney confirms. “Which, really, you’ve got something of an allergy, too.” He wraps an arm around John’s shoulders. “You want to sleep?”

 

“I don’t think I can,” John admits.

 

Rodney nods. “Good thing my laptop has a full charge. I downloaded a couple of movies from the servers, too. Nothing with spiders, I promise.”

 

John lets out a shaky laugh. “Okay, sure.”

 

Rodney grins, looking relieved. “Okay?”

 

“Yeah. Thanks for stomping on the spiders,” John says.

 

“Any time,” Rodney replies. “Whatever you need.”

 

And John can’t help but believe him.


End file.
